


touch-a, touch-a touch-a, touch me

by Nialler



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Pining, also featuring harry as riff raff, and liam as brad, basically louis is a drama major and talks everyone into joining his show one way or another, blowjob, louis as columbia, the rocky horror picture show au, zayn is frank n furter and niall is rocky what else are we expecting here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nialler/pseuds/Nialler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You, ah, want me ta wear –“<br/>“These dazzling gold board shorts? Indeed,” Harry replies quickly, gesturing to the minuscule, sparkling spandex clipped to the hanger. “You are the only fit blonde we could find, Niall.  You <i>have</i> to be Rocky.”</p><p>(or the one in which Niall gets roped into filling in for The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and develops a crush on Zayn, even when he occasionally prances around in androgynous drag.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	touch-a, touch-a touch-a, touch me

Harry gives him the proposition during their usual Tuesday afternoon lunch, after a world literature class that always leaves Niall’s brain numb.

 (He has to wonder if that’s why Harry waited to spring the question on him now, when he’s vulnerable and hungry. Most likely.)

“Come again?” Niall splutters, coughing out the large gulp of his pint he swallowed in surprise.

Harry grins again, clasping his hands in front of him excitedly, “I wanted to know if you’d like to fill in this weekend – and every weekend after that – for my midnight rendition of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, mate. You’d be the glorious Rocky, obviously.”

And Niall likes Harry, really, the kid might be a little weird and hangs out with stupid quiff Nick too much for Niall’s liking, but he’s an amazing dorm mate; he even, like, _vacuums._

But Niall doesn’t think he likes Harry enough to do _this._

“Harry, erm – I don’t think I’d be good enough for the show. M’not even in the drama department–“ Niall starts, wiping his hands on his pants nervously.

 _Nervously_ , because, Harry’s got that pout that’s duped Niall into more things than he’d like to admit to.

Harry seems to pay no mind to the rejection though, leaning forward, eyes flashing happily almost as if Niall’s agreed to prance around onstage nearly nude, flexing his arms. Niall panics inwardly, because what if Harry’s curls and exaggerated pout charmed him into agreeing without any realization.

(Again, it’s happened more times than Niall would like to admit.)

“You’ve seen the film though, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Niall says unsurely, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth, “but m’pretty sure I smoked a spliff with Sean that night. Can’t be held accountable for that.”

Harry just waves a hand in the air, dismissing Niall’s futile attempts to worm his way out of the show again, which is. _Honestly._ Niall gets the sudden sinking feeling that he’s going to be in this show no matter what.

“You’re not going ‘t let me say no, are ya?”

Harry lets out a deep laugh, flattening his hands on the table as if to brace himself, “Oh, Niall. I only asked just to let you feel somewhat involved in this decision. I’ve already told the whole cast you will.”

When Niall gets back to his dorm later that night, he makes a pro and con chart of Harry’s qualities as a roommate. His pros: the abilities to cook and clean, is quickly countered by the con of dragging Niall into all of his harebrained schemes.

When Niall shows him said list, Harry just chuckles and kisses him on the forehead, pulling him down onto the couch to watch telly. And Harry’s ability to give assuring cuddles may just tip his scale over to the pro side again.

 

xo

 

“You’re right, Haz, he’ll be a perfect Rocky,” the one with the eyebrows says, shooting Niall a sympathetic look; sympathy that he somehow manages to convey with those _eyebrows._

Which is. _Well._ Niall decides that he should be sympathetic, because he’s standing in front of three majorly fit lads he doesn’t know on an old cinema stage, in nothing but his thin briefs.

That certainly deserves sympathy.

“Dunno, he’s not you know,” another voice pipes up, belonging to the one who’s trying to inconspicuously hold hands with Harry, as if being sandwiched up together hides the fact, “ _buff_.” He flexes his free arm, as if he’s got any more muscle than Niall. _Honestly._

Niall makes a mental note to hit the gym sometime after class this week anyways, even if he doesn’t have the jaw dropping muscle definition, he still wants something to be able to flex onstage just to prove the petite lad wrong.

“More fit than you, Lou,” a final voice rebukes, and a boy with what Niall considers a criminal set of cheekbones pushes to the front from his previous stance hovering behind Eyebrows, grinning at Niall in earnest.

“He’s got nice arms, which is good enough. If we wanted someone overly fit to play Rocky, Harry would’ve made Liam shave his chest ages ago for the part.”

Eyebrows rolls his eyes and elbows Cheekbones in the ribs playfully.

“Is it all settled then? Can I put my trousers back on,” Niall inquires quickly, blushing scarlet, because, well, Cheekbones is gorgeous, and staring at him under incredibly long eyelashes. Niall gulps.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Cheekbones nods, gaze traveling down to Niall’s chest for a fleeting moment, and well. Niall doesn’t even try to hide the blush that flares again, creeping down his neck at that look.

“M’Niall, by the way,” he offers, quickly reaching down for his jeans and stepping back into them.

“Zayn.”

Niall opens his mouth again, hoping to string together something witty enough to impress him, or at least, to not look like a proper twat in just his trousers, but Harry cuts him off with a long groan followed by, “I can’t believe I forgot to make introductions. Here we go –

“That’s Liam, he’s Brad; this is Louis, he’s Columbia; I’m Riff-Raff; and Zayn, our star, Frank ‘N Furter.

“Everyone else you’ll meet tomorrow: Perrie, she’s Janet; Jade, she’s Magenta; Nick, you know Nick, he plays Eddie; then Ben Winston, yes, Niall you _have_ to say his first and last name it’s one of those things, he’s the professor. We cut out the criminologist for recordings of Nick in a stupid accent -” Harry delivers a sharp nudge to Louis’ side when the lad makes a low comment about Nick already having one, and Niall grins despite himself, “to play between scenes as we switch props.”

Harry takes a long winded breath when he finishes, wheezing slightly, leaning forward with his hands against his knees and Niall almost gags at the way Louis coos and leans down to ask him if he needs his inhaler.

Niall sends round a batch of smiles at everyone anyways, remembering to pull his shirt back on over his head. “I’ve actually got ‘t get going, derby match in a few. But rehearsals in the mornin’, right?”

“Yeah! We start at nine but just get here whenever if you’ve got class.”

As if Niall’s mention of departure has sparked something in the other four, they all seem to break off into their own; as Liam gives everyone a polite wave goodbye and mentions something about meeting his girlfriend for dinner, and Harry reaches for the coats he hung over the props.

Niall flicks his gaze over to Harry, absentmindedly wondering if he’s up for pizza or summat, but he’s already trailed away, making absolutely disgusting heart eyes at Louis, helping him into his coat and beanie like a child.

(Niall does feel like the name Louis sounds familiar though. It’s probably that little coo of affection that Harry lets out when his mobile lights up with a new message during the middle of a study session. Absolutely horrid, that is.)

“Can I walk you out? I need a smoke anyways,” Zayn inquires quietly, reaching out to touch the inside of Niall’s elbow gently.

“I’ll do ya one better, Z. Walk me home and you can split some pizzas with me? I don’t fancy leaving leftovers for Harry. I need my revenge for this in some form or another.”

Zayn laughs – actually laughs! Niall gives himself a pat on the back for that – and links his arm around Niall’s, looking up at him from under his sinfully long eyelashes in a way that makes Niall’s trousers tighten uncomfortably, “Lead the way.”

 

xo

 

“What?” Zayn laughs out finally, the third time he catches Niall staring at him sideways, stopping momentarily to stub out his cigarette.

Niall splutters indignantly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “Nothing, just – I, uh, don’t really peg you as a drag type? I mean no offense, but fuck, those cheekbones could cut glass; you don’t need any contouring.”

(Niall suddenly hopes Zayn doesn’t call him out on having knowledge on contouring, because well, he’s seen an odd number of weird YouTube videos late at night. Who hasn’t, really.)

Zayn rolls his eyes, reaching over to pinch Niall’s ribs through his thin coat. “That’s good then. Because I’m not a drag queen, or wanting to be one, for that matter. It’s just I got coerced into this by Harry and Louis.”

Niall can relate to that.

“You won’t believe how many times I’ve fallen over in those heels,” Zayn continues, kicking his foot against the sidewalk, hand brushing up against Niall’s thigh as he accidentally veers closer, stumbling to regain his footing.

Not that Niall minds; he pulls his left hand out of his pocket discreetly, dropping it down to his side, the back of his hand brushing against Zayn’s.

(And yeah, it may be freezing outside, and he accidentally forgot his gloves so his exposed hand is turning into an ice cube, slowly but surely, but suddenly the prospect of holding hands with Zayn is worth the frost bite.)

Niall feels Zayn glance at him sideways, and then Zayn’s forearm is curling up around his, palms sliding together, fingers intertwining gradually, almost as if he’s unsure of his actions. Niall wonders if all that stubble is covering up a blush. He  gives his hand a reassuring squeeze anyways.

 “You’re cute, you know.”

Niall grins, “Not as much as you are.”

 

xo

 

“So tell me, _Doctor_ ,” Niall croons, swinging round to sit next to Zayn on the couch, handing him a beer, “are ya going ‘t make me a man?”

Zayn fends him off with a giggle, setting the bottle down to grab at a slice of pizza, “Might not have to, you’ve already got those biceps and triceps.”

Niall ducks his head down to take a swig of beer to hide his ever prominent blush, “So how’d Harry talk ya into bein’ in the show?”

Zayn sits back, chewing thoughtfully, “He didn’t. Louis is my roommate, and the show was actually his certified way of getting credits without taking another class. Harry signed up just because Louis asked him, and really, I did too. Then slowly friends joined, and then friends of friends, until we had a full cast.

“Don’t tell them I said this,” Zayn continues, scratching at his jaw, “but everyone started doing it really just because it made them happy. Louis loves an excuse to wear those tiny little sparkling outfits, and Harry, well you know Harry; he loves a reason to wear those stupid little ponytails and second day hair without looking like a proper twat.”

Niall snorts, “What happened t’your last Rocky?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, “Andy decided his social life was far more valuable than being in the show. Wasn’t even blonde, so no real loss there.”

“Do ya rehearse a lot?” Niall asks around a mouthful of pizza, thankful that Zayn pays no mind to it.

“Not really – we’ve been doing this since start of term; we know what we’re doing. We just have rehearsals when somebody new joins. _God_ , what is this, twenty questions?” Zayn snorts, taking a sip of beer. “Because if it is, it’s my turn to ask questions about your sex life under the vague notion of being friendly.”

Niall blushes scarlet, shaking his head quickly, “No, God, I’m such a dork. Only one more question, alright?”

Zayn laughs in agreement, tilting his bottle up.

“Do ya let the new cast members take you home often?” He prompts quietly, setting his pizza down on the coffee table, turning his head to look at Zayn.

Zayn scoffs, and mirrors his movements, setting his beer and pizza down to throw an arm around Niall’s shoulder, pulling the blonde close into his chest. They both fall silent for a moment, the background noise of the derby match Niall’s turned on before he even took his coat off, echoing around the dorm.

After a long pause, Zayn speaks up, “Don’t be daft. Only the cute ones.”

 

xo

 

Niall gets to rehearsals the next day, having to book it right after his engineering course just to arrive shortly after nine, and immediately regrets it.

Harry greets him with his frog-lipped smile, holding up a hanger, “I need you to change into these, just in case they need fitted.”

“You, ah, want me t’wear –“

“These dazzling gold board shorts? Indeed,” Harry replies quickly, gesturing to the minuscule, sparkling spandex clipped to the hanger. “You are the only fit blonde we could find, Niall.  You _have_ to be Rocky.”

Niall frowns, glancing up at the stage where the entire crew is mulling around; talking, laughing, singing each one louder than the last.

Niall suddenly feels close to an anxiety attack.

“Can I at least, uh, change somewhere more private?”

“What?” Harry mumbles distractedly, simultaneously fidgeting with his headscarf and rummaging through the messenger back slung over his chest. “Oh, yeah, ‘course. Changing rooms back here.”

Harry latches onto Niall’s wrist and drags him along the rows of seating to a dodgy set of steps right off the main stage, then down a dimly lit hallway with fixtures probably older than his Nan, until they reach a heavy metal door with a giant gold star plastered to the front.

“In here,” Harry whispers, and Niall’s not exactly sure why, but it seems fitting as Harry wrenches the door open and shoves Niall in.

He barely has time to catch himself from stumbling into the carpet, before Harry is pressed flush against him, straightening him up and whispering again, “Did you and Zayn fuck last night? Louis told me that he went over to our dorm.”

Niall smiles, looking down at his feet, “Yeah, we had pizza and pints, watched the derby game.”

“But did you fuck? Mutual blowies? C’mon Niall, give me something.”

Niall looks up, arching his eyebrows, “Nope. Watched the game, gave him a hug goodbye. Perfect gentlemen all night long.”

“That’s it?” Harry says, dumbfounded, furrowing his brows.

“That’s it,” Niall grins.

“Why didn’t you make a move? I saw the way he was looking at you yesterday, he wouldn’t have said no,” Harry murmurs, busying himself with unclipping the shorts and thrusting them at Niall.

Niall pouts, sitting down in a fabric studio chair to pull of his trainers, followed by his jeans and his jumper pooling at his feet. He holds a finger up and whirls it around, motioning for Harry to turn as he picks at the elastic of his briefs.

Harry nods and turns, flattening his palms over his eyes for good measure.

“I just –“ Niall starts, quickly tugging his pants down and struggling into the glittering shorts, having to shake his arse a few times just to squeeze in completely, “didn’t want t’rush. I like him.”

Harry coos and whips around, clapping his hands together excitedly, apparently uninterested in if Niall’s stark naked or not. _Not, thankfully._

(Not that it’s nothing they haven’t encountered before, dorm life tends to lead to a few eyefuls.)

“I didn’t even know you were queer until a few weeks ago, Ni. And now you’ve brought a boy home, I’m so proud!” Harry exclaims, pinching his cheek, as if he’s Niall’s elder and not the other way around.

Niall holds off an eyeroll just for Harry’s sake. Sometimes you’ve got to take one for the team, he supposes.

“Yeah, yeah. Can ya just tell me if these shorts are alright so I can get out of the damn things and learn my lines?” Niall demands impatiently, stamping his socked foot on the floor.

Harry purses his lips and nods, giving Niall a quick once over, “They look alright, your prick isn’t hanging out which is the main obstacle we’ve had in the past.”

Niall feels like whatever shred of dignity he managed to keep in this whole ordeal dies at those words.

It’s about that time Louis sticks his head in, winking at Harry before casting his gaze over to Niall. He lets out a low wolf whistle, throwing his whole body inside the room, “I take back all of what I said before. Feel free to _thrill me, chill me, fulfill me_ any day with that get up on.”

Niall blushes, trying to cover himself with his hands. He seems to be doing an awful lot of that as of the late. Blushing and hiding his dignity.

Harry pouts, poking Louis in the stomach, “Heyyy.”

Louis shushes him with a quick kiss, leaning up on his toes and tugging at a loose curl sticking up out of Harry’s headscarf, “You know I’ve only got eyes for you, H. Love to see you in those little shorts again.”

 _Again._ Which is. Oh god, Niall realizes, lifting his eyebrows in surprise as he smoothes out the thin fabric of the costume, trying his best to remember the lineup of the Rams and not think of Harry wearing the shorts in a _very_ different context.

“Anyhow,” Louis manages, pulling himself away from Harry with a pained expression, as if detaching himself from Harry’s frog grin is the last thing he would ever want to do, “Grab your script. Everyone is waiting for you on stage.”

“Give me two seconds t’get redressed.”

“No time!” Louis exclaims, wrapping his hand around Niall’s wrist, dragging him out of the room as Harry follows, still searching through his tote for the script. “Everyone is waiting, _now.”_

Louis screeches to a halt when they make it onstage, flinging them both through the thick velvet curtains dramatically. Niall snorts, because drama majors, _really._

It’s then that he realizes he’s on stage with even more people he’s never even met, with gold spandex clinging to his every curve and bulge.

Zayn catches his gaze though, giving a small little wave to steady Niall’s nerves. He’s cleanly shaven today, with short sleeves exposing the mass amount of ink spiraling down both of his arms. He gives Niall an over-exaggerated once over and blushes, giving a double-thumbs up of approval.

And suddenly, it doesn’t seem so bad afterall.

 

xo

 

Niall makes it through rehearsals in seemingly one piece, only stamping on the pretty girl who plays Janet’s feet twice – Perrie, he’s mostly sure – and doing his best to avoid making eye contact as he’s got her tits in his hand.

Harry and Zayn do their best to make him comfortable though, letting him stammer off his script without so much as batting an eye, praising him the entire way through it. Also, at some point, Liam gives him a baggy pair of sweatpants to sport over his costume, and Niall’s never been so thankful.

He also makes his way through the rest of the week, surprisingly. He goes out with Zayn twice in the day and a half leading up to the show – once for dinner on Friday night and coffee Saturday morning before the show, as they scramble over Niall’s lines one last time.

And okay, Zayn is fit, Niall acknowledges immediately when he shows up with wind burnt cheeks and a beanie pulled over his ears.

 Zayn is fucking gorgeous and smart and funny and – Niall wants to drag him back to the dorm and let the older boy completely fucking wreck him. He wants to have bruises on stage tonight and let everyone, including Harry, wonder.

When Zayn glances over his coffee mug at him with that dangerous glint in his eyes, Niall thinks maybe he’s thinking the same thing.

But, they don’t act on it, if so.

They’re two dates in, and all Niall’s gotten is a platonic kiss on the cheek and he thinks he’s going to lose his mind at the way Zayn keeps lighting up across the table, eyes crinkling in amusement, biting his lip as he stares Niall down.

(Niall hopes these are considered dates, they _feel_ like dates with the way they play footsie under the table.)

“You know I like ya, right?” Niall asks, tracing the rim of his mug. And yeah, he realizes it’s a clingy sort of question, but desperate measures in desperate times – or something like that, he thinks.

Zayn furrows his brows, “And you know I like you back, right?”

“So why haven’t we -?”

He shrugs, shredding a napkin over the table nervously, “I just – didn’t want to make a move on you before the show and have things not work out, or God, even have you reject me. Louis would slit my throat in my sleep if I made things awkward between us.”

Niall smiles, careful not to upset the sugar jar as he extends his hands across the table to lay flat over Zayn’s, rescuing the poor napkin from the assault, “I wouldn’t reject you.”

Zayn stills, twisting his hands palms up to hold Niall’s, “Can I take you out for real after the show then?”

“It’s a date.”

 

xo

 

“How’re you feeling?” Liam asks, reclining against the back wall of the dressing room. He’s already in costume, with his fake glasses perched low on his nose, bowtie hanging undone.

“’M gonna hurl,” Niall admits, throwing himself onto the ragged couch, careful not to smear any of the glitter Harry coated his chest with. He’s not sure what’s more humiliating, sparkling under the dim orange lighting of the dressing room, or wearing gold booties to match his shorts.

“Don’t worry about it – Zayn and Perrie will take care of you just fine up there.”

Niall flicks his eyes up, wondering if there’s a hidden euphemism under the Zayn category, but even if, Liam doesn’t show it, just sends Niall a friendly grin.

Liam’s alright, really. Even if his abundance of muscles – some of which are visible even through his costume, how is that fair, really? – make Niall feel incredibly self-conscious.

 “What if I mess up my lines?” He whines, tugging at the long hair behind his ears nervously. His stomach is twisting like the time he was Oliver in the school play, but this time he’s almost naked. Niall’s pretty sure he’s had nightmares like this.

“You don’t have that many, just go with it, follow everyone’s lead.”

Niall manages a small smile, standing up slowly, wiping his palms against his thighs. “I would hug ya, but –“ He motions to his chest, sighing.

Liam laughs good-naturedly, waving him off, “Don’t sweat it, see you on stage.”

 

xo

 

The show starts off with a projection of Jade’s lips across the heavy cinema curtains, dubbed over with Liam’s stiletto vocals of the opening theme.

Niall watches from his personal dark corner behind the side curtains, as Liam and Perrie scramble around behind the curtain, making last minute preparations for them to open up on the chapel scene.

Niall’s trying to picture the way Zayn looks with his lip caught between his teeth, when a hand presses against his back, making Niall jump in the dark, until a familiar voice is in his ear, “You nervous?”

_Speak of the devil._

Niall whirls around, grinning at Zayn in the half-light. Even with shadows  cast over the majority of his face, Niall can just make out the heavy makeup he’s already got on; arched brows, black eye shadow, cheekbones protruding almost unhealthily. He’s got a long black coat wrapped around himself tightly, and Niall can just imagine what he’s got on underneath.

“Yeah,” Niall admits, taking a deep breath.

Zayn smirks and coils a hand around to the small of Niall’s back, leading him even further backstage to the set of steps adjacent to the curtains. Niall cranes his neck, getting a full view of the stage, as Perrie does Liam’s bowtie carefully.

He gets the sudden feeling that they can’t see him.

“So – I was doing my makeup, and I was about to put on my lipstick, alright? But then I decided, to hell with this whole after show thing,” Zayn whispers unsurely, orange light from the hallway haloing around his quiff.

“Yeah?” Niall breathes excitedly, biting his lip as he turns back to face him.

“Yeah,” Zayn replies, carefully, before he’s leaning in against Niall, hands cupping over his cheeks. Niall gets the brief notion to tilt his head up, and then Zayn’s lips are fitted over his, biting his bottom lip softly.

Niall shuts his eyes, snaking his hands up around Zayn’s shoulders, pulling him closer, he _needs_ to be closer because this is all he’s been thinking about since Wednesday. 

Zayn hums in approval against his mouth, and parts his lips, and _fuck_ , he starts doing this thing with his tongue that makes Niall whimper. He navigates Niall a few steps backwards into the railing above the steps without pulling away, pressing flush against him.

Niall threads his fingers in the short hair at the nape of his neck, and almost chokes when Zayn’s leg pushes between his things, parting them as he presses against his crotch.

And, oh god, Niall realizes with a jolt, he’s fucking hard in the board shorts.

He pulls away, batting against Zayn’s chest weakly, “We can’t, I – uh, I’ve got a problem.”

Zayn arches his brows, curious, until Niall points downwards at the blatant bulge in his costume, and _oh_ , he’s not even wearing underwear for god’s sake.

“I could take care of that, if you’d like?” Zayn croons, already sinking down to his knees. He tilts his head up to face Niall, winking, “Not like you can go on stage like this.”

“Fuck – yes,” Niall hisses, and Zayn doesn’t hesitate, curling his fingers under the tight waist-band, jerking the shorts down the blonde’s thighs.

Niall whimpers pitifully, bringing up a hand to cover his mouth as Zayn wraps his hands around the base, hot breath ghosting over his prick.

It’s about the same time that Zayn  wraps his lips around the head and Niall cries out into his palm, that he realizes the opening chords to ‘Damnit, Janet’ start sounding off, followed by the amplified sounds of Liam and Perrie serenading each other.

Niall is being blown backstage with _the show in progress._

He’s not sure if he’s more afraid of Louis finding him and murdering him right on the spot, or congratulating him as Zayn’s got his lips wrapped around him.

Zayn pays no mind though, bobbing his head at a constant pace, holding Niall steady against the railing with one hand on his thigh and one still wrapped around the base of his cock. He does the tongue thing again, and Niall’s eyes snap shut, moaning brokenly. He tilts his head back and curls a hand into Zayn’s hair.

“’M gonna-“ He manages raggedly, opening his eyes momentarily to meet Zayn’s heavy gaze, groaning at the way his cheeks are hollowed around him, eyes bright. And then he’s coming suddenly, biting down against his hand to keep quiet.

Zayn doesn’t even flinch, just hums quietly as Niall comes into his mouth, rocking back on his haunches as he finishes, wiping the back of his hand against his lips.

Niall tucks himself back into his shorts, trying to catch his breath.

“Can I still take you out tonight?” Zayn asks, standing up slowly, pressing a kiss against Niall’s nose.

Niall nods, breaking into a grin as he kisses Zayn softly, “Only if I get to return the favor.”

“It’s a date.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> right then, first full length (or full length for me, whatever) fic yay! beta'd by the lovely Tempe. inspired by my undying love of Rocky Horror, and that clip of Niall in just his boxer briefs on 1DDay, it all just came together.  
> Thank you very much for reading, and feedback is totally welcome (as well as wanted)!


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